


The Home Life of Two Married Professional International Spies

by irritable



Series: things can get ugly, but we're still a team [2]
Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/F, also one scene where its not that home life-y, and hints of staubrey, aubrey jesse and stacie make an appearance, my research on guns was limited so i apologize for inaccuracies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-20 05:32:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4775507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irritable/pseuds/irritable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snapshots of what it's like in a house where two married spies reside with access to weapons and kitchen appliances.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Home Life of Two Married Professional International Spies

**Author's Note:**

> for anon on tumblr.

It was a quiet night, well, as quiet as a night could get for a pair of married international spies.

 

(Which was actually pretty quiet considering Beca Mitchell wasn’t really a likable person after eleven at night, so the agency had her work during the day, and Chloe was basically her own boss.)

 

The calls of crickets were muted by the thick windows attached to the lacquered sill and barely detectable over the low static coming from the brand new flat screen TV.

 

The majority of the noise came from the kitchen. Chloe Beale hummed tunes to herself and tapped a light beat on the wooden spoon as she mixed the cookie batter in a glass bowl.

 

She continued to mumble lyrics under her breath as she crossed through the house to flick the TV off, glaring at it – it was the first thing Beca forced her to buy when they got the new place. The sofa was covered by a thick blanket and crumbs (Chloe would later threaten to shoot Beca in the foot if she didn’t start cleaning up after herself).

 

The house itself sat in a nest of trees and greenery with only one road leading in and out. It was a two floor house, nearing the larger side of things, and had four rooms on each floor. Along with the space, came carpets, cushions, and dark, polished wood.

 

The place was in, essentially, the best location anyone could have gotten, being situated in a place where there was amounts of privacy and safety (in their standards), and being a five minute drive away from civilization.

 

Chloe returned to the kitchen after ensuring the TV was properly turned off (because of course Beca made her buy the most expensive and high tech one which had too many buttons for a simple damn TV). She dropped the bowl down on the counter with a dull ‘thunk’ and bent to turn on the oven (with a good amount of nobs and buttons, mind you).

 

She began to divide the cookie dough into even proportions on a plate, popping some in her mouth as she did, and adjusted the amount of chocolate chips as she did so. Her hand jerked and the spoon jammed into a perfectly formed dollop of dough as a scream broke through the house.

 

She threw the spoon down into the cookie dough and expertly handled a knife from their drawer. Her socks padded lightly against the hard wood of their stairs and her left hand swept along with her as she climbed up to locate the yell.

 

Her heart pounded against her ribs and her knife was stuck in a vice-grip.

 

The bathroom door slid into view. Cyan leaked through from under the door, melting with the brown of the floor.

 

A yelp squeaked out – Beca? A venomous curse – Beca. Then, two rapidly fired gun shots just as Chloe yanked the door open.

 

Beca spun around with her gun raised into Chloe’s face.

 

“I thought we already went through this, Becs,” Chloe said dryly as Beca rolled her eyes and dropped the gun. Chloe tilted her head, grip on the knife loosening, and scanned the bathroom with calculating blue eyes.

 

No threat. Two holes in their shower curtain. A scowling, gun wielding, and half-naked dripping wet Beca. _No threat._

 

Chloe faced Beca again with a quirked eyebrow, her knife hand on her hip.

 

The brunette stared back at her, evenly.

 

She set the knife down with measured fingers onto the damp marble surface by the sink and blinked at the bullet holes, then back to Beca again.

 

Beca cleared her throat, managing to look at least sheepish. “Um, there was a… a thing. Yeah.”

 

Chloe approached the shower curtain and ran her fingers over the uneven edges of the bullet holes. She tugged the curtain aside and examined the bullets that embedded themselves into the tiled walls.

 

“ _Beca_ , _explain._ ” Chloe twisted around and crossed her arms over her chest with a scowl. I mean, _come on_ , they _just_ bought this goddamn house.

 

Beca coughed into her hand, letting it flap down to her sides after, and her eyes darter briefly to the door before thinking better of it (that’s right, Mitchell). “Okay, I was doing you a favour.”

 

Chloe scoffed.

 

“No, seriously, dude. You’re _welcome._ ” Beca nudged past Chloe and yanked the curtains away to give easier access into the bathtub to see the bullets. “You’re fucking welcome, because I just saved us from lots of pain.”

 

“Are you insulting my taste? Is the bathroom colour scheme so bad, that you shoot at it to get rid of it?” Chloe finally huffed, sarcasm biting at her voice.

 

Beca pushed her shoulders into Chloe’s and gave her a glower. “I’m getting to the ‘why’ part of it soon. Patience, god, _Chloe_ ,” Beca sneered. “As I was saying, you’re welcome, because I just rid our house of a deadly enemy.”

 

“I’m not sure if you know this, Beca, but we _do_ need air to survive and I don’t think shooting at it will get rid of it.”

 

The redhead stifled a giggle at Beca’s glare (which would have made Emily and the rest of her nerdy friends shit their pants right on the spot).

 

“Look at the bullet on the right. Yeah. You see that? You’re welcome. I saved you from death by heart attack caused by having a _spider_ land on you while you shower,” Beca said, indignantly. “Got the son of a bitch right in the back.”

 

Chloe stared unbelievingly at the bullet, squinting slightly at the things that may or may not be spider legs. She turned. “You ruined our shower curtain and the wall, because of a bug?”

 

Beca crossed her arms, pulled her shoulders back and pushed her chin up. “Yeah, I did that.”

 

“You _shot_ at a bug with your pistol.”

 

“And I got it,” Beca pointed out as if that would fix the holes in their bathroom.

 

The redhead took a deep breath before letting it out again. “I thought you were being attacked, Beca.”

 

Her wife’s scowl deepened. “Chlo, I _was_ being attacked. Attacked by an evil devil creature while I was naked. I’m sorry if your first instinct to protect yourself isn’t to reach for the bathroom gun and shoot at it.”

 

Chloe rolled her eyes.

 

“Besides, be happy that when _you_ crept up on me in the shower, I didn’t shoot you between the eyes.”

 

“You weren’t-”

 

“I wasn’t complaining then, yeah, okay,” Beca interrupted, having already memorized the spiel because Chloe used it _so_ many times against her. “And I was loud. Got it. Can I go shower now?”

 

The redhead barely had time to reciprocate before Beca’s lips were gone from hers. “I’ll forgive you, if you get this repaired, get the cookies done, and give me a proper kiss.”

 

“You’re so bossy.”

 

Chloe glared.

 

“Dude, chill,” she muttered against Chloe’s lips, pulling away after a good couple of seconds. Then, she strode by Chloe to get to the bathroom downstairs.

 

“Fancy asshole,” she called after the retreating Beca.

 

She grinned when she got a, “Hoodie bitch!” hollered back. She swiped the knife off the counter and followed.

 

 

 

 

Mornings were not only Beca’s favourite, Chloe couldn’t even think of a morning without waking up with a smile or to a soft smile on Beca’s face.

 

She groaned softly into Beca’s pale shoulder as their alarms went off simultaneously. Beca grunted back, tugging Chloe closer to her by the waist and burying her face into Chloe’s hair.

 

“G’morning,” Chloe mumbled against skin with an upwards tilt to her lips. “Want to grab the gun between the mattress and the headboard and shoot a bug or two?”

 

“I’ll shoot _you_ ,” Beca grumbled as she rolled around with a resentful huff, back to Chloe’s naked back.

 

Chloe only laughed, the light sound tinkling in the spacious room. “How about shooting the alarms, at least?”

 

“Gladly,” Beca replied, only mildly surprised when Chloe twisted to press her bare torso against her back, her arms snaked around Beca's middle and yanked her in, spooning her. A second later, Chloe rolled onto her back, bringing a startled and now fully awake Beca on top of her.

 

Beca flailed for a good fraction of a minute before managing to wriggle around to face Chloe with narrowed eyes and an irritated pull at her eyebrows, her forearms coming to either side of Chloe’s face to prop her up.

 

Chloe beamed, warmth filling her chest and stomach, pumping through her entire body.

 

Sunlight filtered through the curtain of Beca’s wavy bedhead and cast shadows over her nose and cheek. Birds began to wake up, crooning over the steady up-and-down of their breathing.

 

“Morning,” Beca whispered, slumber still putting a rasp to her voice, her frown shrunk into a teasing smile.

 

Chloe sloped her head slightly, the proximity between their lips lessening. Her hand found Beca’s waist and she ran her fingers over the expanse of skin. “Morning, beautiful,” Chloe murmured back.

 

The tips of Beca’s ears turned red. “Shut the fuck up, Beale, too early for flirting.”

 

The redhead snorted, allowing Beca to roll off her. “It’s not ‘too early’ for anything. If you want to flirt, then flirt. If you want to shoot at the _terrifying_ and life-threatening bugs, then do it.”

 

“Go away.”

 

“Do sweep the bathroom, honey,” Chloe shouted, “we wouldn’t want any more holes in our house!”

 

“You’re right. Two _is_ enough, so stop being an asshole, three’s a crowd,” Beca yelled back, slamming the bathroom door with a grumble.

 

Chloe sniggered, pushing through the mountain of pillows and blankets and slipped into the bathroom after Beca with the largest grin on her face.

 

It was just before 6:30 AM when they finally left the bathroom with hands adjoined. Beca peeled her hand away as they stepped into the kitchen with dripping hair and their work clothes on (Chloe had upgraded from a hoodie to slim-fitting one pieces - not unlike the Black Widow from the films - tailored by the people at Residual Heat).

 

Chloe began the process of making breakfast while Beca turned the morning news on and pulled out tableware.

 

As the eggs sizzled in the pan, Chloe sliced through apples with a knife in adept hands. Beca rifled through their fridge and pulled out the juice, then moved along to the cupboard to get the cereal.

 

Chloe attended to the eggs, sliding them onto plates and setting them down at the counter in a matter of seconds.

 

Beca grabbed bowls, pouring her preferred cereal in the bowl, then reaching for the Froot Loops for Chloe. “ _Dude_!”

 

“What?” Chloe glanced up with a spoon hanging between her teeth, like a deer caught in the headlights.

 

“ _Dude._ ” Beca gripped the bowl in her tight hold and shook it in Chloe’s face. “Do you _want_ to eat ammunition in milk for breakfast?”

 

Chloe dropped her head to the side with a small puff of air, her fingers came to the edge of the bowl and tilted it down. She blinked at the contents of the bowl before turning back up to blink at Beca. “You got the wrong cereal box.”

 

“Oh, really? I just thought you needed some more iron in your system,” Beca said dryly, pulling the bowl back and pouring the ammo back into the box.

 

“The bullets aren’t made of iron, Becs,” Chloe replied with a grin.

 

Beca gave her a glare. “Get your own cereal.”

 

“But, Beca, I love you.”

 

“Suck my dick.”

 

Chloe dug into her meal, her face filled with pure glee. “You’re a bitchy _vagina_ specimen.”

 

The brunette rolled her eyes, half her meal already gone (the woman was small, sure, but she could inhale a full McDonald’s meal in under two minutes). “You promised not to speak of that. It was a bad day, Chloe, I can’t think of clever comebacks on bad days.”

 

“Of course.”

 

They continued to eat in relative silence, listening to the news anchor drone on and the birds chirping.

 

Beca rinsed the bowls after they were both done, leaving it in the sink for later, and joining Chloe in their basement. Her boots clunked heavily against the floor and her fingers brushed lightly against the metal.

 

“Chloe, where’s my Glock?” Beca asked to her wife who was examining the wall of knives. “Chloe.”

 

“I _may_ have borrowed it and I _may_ have dropped it in the river, but in my defense it was the perp’s fault. He stood on my hand.”

 

Beca growled, eyes sweeping over the large array of handguns and locating a new gun. “You’re so annoying.”

 

“But you love me.” Chloe grinned. She slipped two knives into her waistband and one strapped against her thigh before joining Beca by the handguns.

 

“Unfortunately,” Beca muttered under her breath, scowling when Chloe flicked her arm, because _ow_.

 

Beca kicked Chloe’s shin as she plucked a pair of M1911 pistols out of the collection. Chloe pouted.

 

Once Beca had finished testing out her pistols and chosen her own melee weapons, she left Chloe to puzzle over the guns and turned the TV off.

 

It was just 7:10 when they were both equipped and ready to go. Beca slung a leg over her motorcycle as Chloe hopped into their car (they alternated between the two vehicles monthly, seeing as it was Chloe’s motorcycle to begin with, but Beca wanted to look cool).

 

Before Beca could rev the engine, a rock collided with the side of her helmet. She spun around to glare at her wife. “What?”

 

“Goodbye kiss me.”

 

“You’re so needy,” Beca muttered, lifting the visor and doing as told anyway.

 

 

 

 

Chloe almost dropped the comb in her hand at the sound of gunshots. She sighed. _Again?_

 

God. She tightened her grip on the brush and stomped towards the source of the shots.

 

Beca brushed past her on the stairs with a heated glare and a gun hanging from her left fingertips.

 

“Becs. Becs, what happened?” Chloe asked as she peered at their open door.

 

The brunette paused on the stairs with a shrug. “I forgot my keys.”

 

“So, you shot through our door.”

 

Beca cleared her throat, only realizing now how bad that sounded. “I had a bad day at work.”

 

Chloe nodded, face still impassive. “Okay, we’ll talk about that later, but – _so, you shot through our door_.”

 

Rubbing the back of her neck, Beca shifted on her feet and scuffed the ground with the heels of her feet. “Um. Yeah.”

 

Chloe didn’t hesitate before she raised the comb and Beca could barely blink before it whizzed past her head.

 

“Dude-” A slipper smacked into her face before she could finish, she caught it before it fell to the floor and whipped her head up to glower at her wife. _Fuck._ She dodged the next slipper. “Hey!”

 

She snagged a tissue box from the air and just managed to get Chloe to _not_ throw their vases at her.

 

Somewhere during the night, she got a pillow in the face and a muttered, “Sorry, just got it out of my system.”

 

 

 

 

“Honey, don’t forget to turn off the aircon in the living room. Oh, and the submachine gun in the backseat of the car!”

 

“Yeah, whatever.”

 

“Fancy asshole!”

 

“Hoodie bitch.”

 

 

 

 

“Chlo? Chloe, what are you doing?”

 

The redhead glanced up, hands stilling. “I’m making dinner.”

 

Beca stepped closer. “You’re mashing potatoes.”

 

Chloe nodded, resuming her work.

 

“You’re mashing potatoes… with the butt of a gun,” Beca said slowly, “You’re mashing potatoes with the butt of my new Glock.”

 

Chloe nodded again, distractedly waving Beca away. “Yeah. You bled all over the kitchen tools.”

 

Beca blinked. “It’s sanitized, right?”

 

“Yes, Beca, it is. Go away, you’re ruining my cooking vibe.”

 

“You’re going to clean it after, _right_?”

 

Chloe rolled her eyes.

 

“ _Right_?”

 

 

 

A sneeze. Beca cursed, hoping that Chloe didn’t hear it and continuing to sneak around in the kitchen.

 

The lights flickered on and Beca turned to see an angry Chloe.

 

“Good morning,” Beca exclaimed, making exaggerated movement with waving hands and maybe a hop or two. The cereal box she had open on the counter hid behind her back. “Hello, beautiful wifey, this is me in the house.”

 

Chloe didn’t look the least bit impressed, she stormed to Beca’s side and picked her up in her arms. “You’re _sick_. You’re not going to work, Beca Mitchell, no arguing or I _will_ hand your ass to you.”

 

“But you can’t beat up someone who’s sick,” Beca pointed out, not bothering to escape Chloe’s tight hold on her and allowing her wife to lug her upstairs bridal style. “Also, I was eating cereal, not going to work, so – so – oh, Jesus Chri-” She coughed, jerking up and pounding her chest.

 

“You’re stupid,” is all Chloe said as she all but threw Beca onto their bed and wrapped her up in blankets.

 

Beca’s reply was muffled by the pillows, but it sounded suspiciously like a ‘fuck you’.

 

Chloe laughed as Beca wriggled in the blankets, finally breaking through the surface of the sea of bedding. “Well, feed me.”

 

“Magic word?” Chloe teased.

 

“Suck my dick.”

 

Chloe wrinkled her nose before turning on her heel to make breakfast.

 

When the door swung shut, Beca clambered out beneath the stifling sheets and slipped out of her cat pajama bottoms.

 

Once she had a pair of sweatpants and a loose-fitting James Bond shirt on, she grabbed the gun from her nightstand and shoved it into her waistband. At the sound of shuffling outside the door, she dove into the sheets and managed to drag a pillow over her head just as the door creaked open.

 

“Beca?”

 

“What?” she barked, satisfied with her response. “Did you make me soup?”

 

Chloe sighed at the snappy response and closed the door again.

 

The creaking of the floor slid further away and Beca sighed, untangling herself again. She eased the door open and had one leg out before she hissed and hopped back in. She tiptoed back to the bed and stuffed a couple more pillows under the sheets until it vaguely shaped the form of a body to buy her more time.

 

She smiled in content at her own work before slipping back out and scaling the wall to their garage. She had just gotten on her old bike when the sound of Chloe’s hollering followed. She winced.

 

“Beca _fucking_ Mitchell, I will end you with this goddamn pillow if you don’t come out here, _now_.”

 

Coming from Chloe Beale, it probably was possible. There are _many_ ways you could kill someone with a sack of feathers.

 

Beca grimaced again, picking up her peddling pace and getting to civilization in under ten minutes without a coughing fit in between (that was an achievement).

 

The brunette biked into an alleyway and left the trusty bike beside a dumpster in walking distance of Residual Heat – it was surely going to be stolen, but she needed a new bike anyway.

 

She kept her head down as she made her way down the back alleys, only stopping to borrow a hoodie off Bumper Allen (a homeless man who owed her – no, seriously, the amount of times Beca had rescued this sad excuse of a man was depressing).

 

Sucking it up, she pulled the pungent hoodie closer to her body and swaggered down the street.

 

Residual Heat was just coming into view when a flash of red under a hoodie caught Beca’s eye, she squinted and drew her shoulders together, beginning to stumble. A cough erupted through her mouth and she cursed internally.

 

She staggered towards a dirty man loitering by a brick wall and gave him a nod, keeping up her appearance of someone who was drunk off their ass. She coughed again and approached the man with beady eyes.

 

“Got any goodies?” she croaked out, looking around. “I got cash.”

 

The man gave her a once over before nodding and reaching into his pockets, he produced a bag of powder in a tight grip. “Show me the money.”

 

She swore under her breath and dug her fingers into the pockets of Bumper’s hoodie, empty – it wasn’t a surprise. “Look, man,” she hissed under her breath, reaching for the gun in her waist band and pressing it to his gut under her hoodie. “Just hand me the goods and no one gets hurt.”

 

Her eyes scanned the crowd and the buildings towering over them, no suspicious looking people. She turned back to the scowling drug dealer, taking in the details for later, and wrenched the drugs from his hand before continuing her stumble towards the alley by Residual heat.

 

She licked her lips, eyes catching the time on a passerby’s watch and slumped against the white wall of the Residual Heat building.

 

Coughs wracked through her body and she sniffled.

 

Jesse should have been passing through here by now, she wiped the side of her hoodie with a shaking palm before opening the bag of drugs.

 

Her hands shook violently – to keep up appearances – as she poured some of the powder into her left hand.

 

“Hey!”

 

She jerked, the powder disappearing in a puff of air.

 

“Hey, you, get out of here!” Jesse came into view with a frown. “What’s your problem? Go away, druggie, that crap is nasty.”

 

Beca hissed as she was manhandled onto the street. “Get off me, dude, I’ll shoot you,” she grunted in a lower voice. “I swear to god, I’ve got a gun.”

 

The next thing she knew, she was being dragged into Residual Heat, her gun was taken, and she was thrown into the underground cells. She grinned, satisfied with how she got into her work place.

 

She lunged at the caged door and yanked Jesse back who immediately spun and twisted her wrist until pain ebbed at her senses. “Do you want to die?”

 

“God, James Bond, don’t make your testicles combust, let me out, I was just trying to get t’ work,” Beca muttered, knowing full well she could beat Jesse up through the bars like this.

 

Jesse growled, releasing her from his bruising grip and stepping closer to the bars with a dangerous glint in his eye. “I am _not_ James Bond. Firstly, I have more respect for women than that useless pile of shit. Secondly-”

 

“Okay, Jess, keep on talking smack about James Bond, I’ll explain why I'm here as you do,” Beca whispered to Jesse under her breath, hoodie pulled as far as possible over her face. “Don’t pause or make any indication that you know me.”

 

Jesse stuttered over his words, but continued on his rant about every shitty thing James Bond had ever done.

 

Beca grinned. “Okay, so Chloe has me on lock down on the house and-” Jesse let out a sigh of relief through his explanation on the wrongness of James Bond’s suits (or whatever, Beca had never been really bothered to listen to any of his rants). “What? Did you think I was being chased by drug dealers? Touch up on your acting, by the way.”

 

Jesse glowered, covering it up by intensifying his angry string of words.

 

Before she could start speaking again, a cough ripped through her throat and she took a step back.

 

When she looked back up, Jesse was stepping through the threshold of the cell and picking her up. He bundled her up in his arms and marched her to his office, setting her down on the couch. “You’re crazy, Beca, you can’t work like this.”

 

“Shh! Shush. She could be listening, you don’t know.” Beca flailed, trying to get back up, only to be shoved down by her partner. “ _Dude_. Don’t trust Posen, by the way, she’s in cahoots with Chloe – which I _still_ can’t fucking believe.”

 

“You’re so paranoid, Beca,” Jesse said as he rubbed his temples. “Go home, drink soup, get better.”

 

“Oh! You know what I need? The gym.”

 

Jesse groaned. “Did you not hear anything I just said?”

 

Beca opened the door with her hoodie already over her head and a sense of purpose. Aubrey Posen stood on the other side.

 

Well, shit.

 

“Posen!” Jesse shoved past Beca and covered the doorway with a smile. “I’ve got this druggie under my watchful eye.”

 

“And I’m here to ask why you have the druggie here instead of in the cells,” Aubrey replied in her usual way – commanding as hell and bordering on hostility.

 

“Um, James Bond,” is all Jesse can manage to mutter out.

 

Aubrey rolled her eyes, twisting around Jesse and wrenching Beca away from his office. She pushed Beca towards the back elevators.

 

“Chloe,” – Beca stiffened – “Jesus, you didn’t tell me wifey’s boss was this hot!”

 

Beca swiveled around to see Chloe and Stacie making their way through the halls like Residual Heat was their own base of operations. Aubrey narrowed her eyes, cuffing Beca and pressing her face against the wall before turning to glare at Stacie.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

Stacie tilted her head at Aubrey with a smirk. “What can I say? The Hunter never stops hunting.”

 

Before Aubrey could rip one at Stacie, Chloe stepped in with an apologetic smile. “Hi, Bree, we were just around looking for Beca.”

 

“She didn’t come in today, I was going to call,” Aubrey responded with a frown. “What’s up?”

 

“Beca’s sick and she wanted to go to work today – I don’t know why so desperately – but I didn’t let her and now she’s gone,” Chloe almost whined.

 

Aubrey sighed. “Sounds like her, I’ll have Agent Swanson and Em scouring the streets for you.”

 

“Thank you, I love you, thank you!” There was a silence and Beca couldn’t tell what was happening, but Aubrey wasn’t sloppy, she’d never leave a criminal in the halls.

 

Then, she was hauled backwards and someone was tugging the hood off.

 

“Jesus- Oh. Aw, man.”

 

“That’s fucking right, Mitchell,” Stacie said through a snicker. 

 

Aubrey leaned against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest and Chloe filled the rest of her vision with her scathing glare.

 

“I'm... Chloe, just so you know, I love you.”

 

Stacie bursts into a fit of laughter in the background and Chloe hurls Beca over her shoulder roughly.

 

“Chloe!” Beca yelped. “My god, put me down. Chloe.”

 

“I’ll see you next week, Agent Mitchell,” Aubrey called after her, a smirk probably on her face.

 

Beca huffed. “Chlo, I’m sorry, okay?”

 

“Not okay.”

 

A beat.

 

“You _will_ drown in chicken soup, be suffocated by pillows, and sweat 40% of your weight off until you get better, or so help me, Mitchell.”

 

“I’m filing for a divorce.”

 

“Yeah, and you’re tall.”

 

Beca headbutted the back of Chloe's head, lightly. "How'd you know it was me, anyway?"

 

"Your height."

 

"Oh, of fucking course," Beca muttered.

 

Chloe cracked a smile.

 

 

 

 

The constant tick-tock of a clock joined the sound of crickets and the occasional rustling of sheets.

 

A moment later, in the darkness, a strong arm wrapped around Beca’s waist and a nose buried itself into brown tresses.

 

“Today was good,” Chloe murmured into hair, “Emily handled the targets pretty well.”

 

Beca hummed in agreement, sinking into Chloe’s body with a small smile. “Your aiming is almost as good as mine.”

 

Chloe snorted. “Glad to know you didn’t stop to shoot at bugs.”

 

“Shut your mouth, Beale.”

 

The redhead giggled – a soft, breathy sound – and tightened her hold. “Good night, Becs.”

 

Beca sighed in content at the light brush of Chloe’s lips against her bare shoulder. “Good night, Chlo.”

 

Chloe’s lips curved against her skin. “I love you.”

 

“Yeah. I love you, too.”

 

The home life of two married professional international spies was pretty good.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> im v eh about this bc i lost inspiration twice while writing this and its probably boring somewhere (this is why i dont like writing continuations of fics bro)
> 
> thank you for reading though, please do leave feedback (any type, if you want to criticize the crap outta this im ok with that).
> 
> p.s. tumblr is chlloebeale.tumblr.com


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